The Price of War
by heartbeat7
Summary: The Quarter Quell demands one Victor and one citizen from every district. Rebel Ara Malloy is determined to see Peeta through the Games no matter what the cost. Accepting her role as sacrifice, she steps confidently into the arena. All her confidence drains then and there. This Hunger Games is unlike any other. She didn't train for this. No one did.
1. Reaping

Katniss' Point of View

My hands were shaking as Gale squeezed them trying to get me to calm down. "You have a good chance" he kept saying. A good chance of what? Not going? Then I'd watch one of my friends leave and maybe another one. Of going? I didn't want to go back. And I didn't want to take another new face in with me.

"This is cruel" I whisper even though I feel we are safe here in the woods.

Gale nods. "I know" he says.

"Where's Ara?" I ask. I haven't seen her since Snow read the card for the Quarter Quell. She's scared for all of us. She's like me. She's going to watch one of her friends enter the arena again. Peeta or me. We've ruled out Haymitch because one of us will volunteer for him. He'll do a better job mentoring than either of us could. He saved my life many times in the arena and hopefully he can do it again.

Because I've decided that if it's Peeta's name that is called, I will volunteer. I won't watch him go back. I can't. He saved me last time. I owe him my life.

And if it's Haymitch that's called, then I'll just have to hope that I can volunteer before Peeta does.

Gale shrugs and plucks a rather long blade of grass. He presses it between his palms the way Ara showed us and blows. It makes a high-pitched whistling noise that gets no reply. "I haven't seen her. Last I heard Sora was having a hard time with the Quell."

Sora is only thirteen. It's understandable for him to be nervous. Prim is too. But I don't think she's worried for herself this time. She's old enough to understand that I have a one in three chance at going back in. Where she has a one in a couple thousand. And that is if I'm not picked.

Or if I don't get to volunteer.

"He's afraid she's going in" he continues.

I hadn't thought about this myself and it catches me by surprise hearing it from Gale. Gale is safe because he's too old to be entered this time. And I thought the only other people I had to worry about were Prim and Peeta. I feel selfish for not even thinking of Ara. She has as good a chance as any to be called. Probably better because she's been signing up for tesserae just as often as Gale and I. This will be the first year where her name is entered more times than mine.

And now I'm picking through my brain trying to think of all the other girls who will have their names in that glass sphere. Will any of them have their name in there more than Ara? Only a few because she's seventeen now. Could she really be picked? Prim was. And her name was only in there once. I shiver at the memory and shake it out of my head. No, it won't be Ara. And it won't be Prim either. They're not going in. They won't face the horrors I did.

There's a hissing noise from somewhere far off and at first I think it's Ara responding to Gale's call. But when he pushes me down and we crawl back into the shelter of the trees, I know it's not her. It's Effie. She's here to draw names.

We sprint back to the fence and shimmy under it. Then I split from Gale and rush to our home. It feels strange not turning as I usually would but running straight for town and then turning at the nearly abandoned Victor's Village. Only three houses are occupied. And perhaps after the Quell there will only be two with lights on.

Prim and my mother are waiting on the steps for me. They meet me halfway down the street and I pivot for the town. I grip Prim's shoulders. "You're going to be fine" I tell her.

She looks at me with clouded eyes and I have to bite my lip. Because I can't promise her I'll be ok. Because I'm going to volunteer myself. I'm going back in.

Maybe Prim can sense this because she only kisses my cheek and doesn't say a word. I walk over to Haymitch, who reeks of alcohol, and Peeta who seems a little paler than usual. He has the same agenda as me and I'm going to need to be fast if I want to beat his tongue in volunteering.

Effie stands at the Justice Building with a new, gold wig that matches her lipstick. I feel anything but golden. Maybe grey because I secretly feel like I'm betraying Prim and Gale and Ara by volunteering yet again. I'll put them through the agony again and this time I don't think the Capital is going to let me live long enough to pull another stunt.

I'm not even listening as the annual speeches are given. I'm searching the crowd for familiar faces. I find Prim's easy enough. She doesn't seem as terrified as the first time. Maybe it's because I survived. And now I'm afraid I've given her false hope. I look away and search the older girls.

I spot Ara standing near the edge and it's all I can do not to rush over and push her deeper into the crowd. Because standing there, she looks as if she's given herself in to the Games and is volunteering before they've even called a name. Her hair is pulled into a loose bun and a few waves fall from it into her face. I can't see her eyes but I know they hold the stormy courage they did when I volunteered and sought her out. She is a rock. Her features are hard and her hair is dark. She is stable and calm even in the roughest storms. And today I'd love to be standing next to her and squeezing her hand so I keep from sinking into the ground.

"This year," Effie says and my eyes fly away from Ara, "There are three spheres".

They are just as intimidating as before. And the most intimidating isn't the one that's barely full, but the one that's about to burst with names.

"One for the Victors." She smiles at us as if it's an honor to return.

"One for the girls." Is it my imagination or did she find Ara in the crowd? Her face must be hard as it usually is. She won't let the Capital take her.

"And one for the boys."

I'm nervous and a hand grabs mine from seemingly nowhere. It's Peeta and he's smiling at me. I see no reason to smile. He thinks he's going to take my place. I can only hope that it's not my name called so that I can be the one to volunteer. Otherwise, it will be him. Haymitch isn't stupid enough to volunteer. He knows we won't last without him as mentor.

Now I'm nervous for the boy squeezing my hand. Does Snow hate me enough to fill that bowl with slips with only my name? Has he damned me, and thus Peeta, to the Hunger Games?

"Victors first" Effie says and takes tantalizingly slow steps toward the near empty bowl. Her fingers curl around a piece of paper and I grip Peeta's hand firmer. I've broken out in a cold sweat and my legs and turning to elastic. I'm having trouble focusing, but I do catch the name announced.

"Katniss Everdeen!"

Before Prim has time to scream and claw her way towards me, before Gale can turn his head towards me, before Ara can give me her reassuring nod, before I can even blink and take in the fact that my name has been called, Peeta is volunteering for me.

_No! No! No!_

Nothing comes out of my mouth as my friend's hand escapes mine. He's already made it to the steps before I try and race after him. Haymitch throws his arm out and stops me. It's already too late. Only one volunteer is allowed.

_I've failed Peeta_ I think miserably. I'm about to fall to the ground but I realize there's still one more name to be called. And it will be from the girl's bowl.

"And now for the girls" Effie says without missing a beat. Either she's completely unmoved by the fact that Peeta has just taken my place and once again protected me, or she's trying to disguise it by continuing down the line.

I look for Prim. It's unlikely that she'll be called twice in a row. Even more unlikely that two siblings' names will be called. Still, with my luck, I cross my fingers that it's not her. And then there's Ara. She's still standing confidently but something in her has fallen. I can see it in the way her head has tilted and her hair has moved farther from her face. She seems to be… mourning.

Across the way, the boys have relaxed. Only the ones with sisters or lovers still look panicked. I catch Sora's eye. He's watching his sister's move, taking cues to stand strong or break down. His fists are balled and he won't look away from her. Not twenty feet away, her older brother, Zath, is doing the same. How awful it must be to always worry about both the boys and girls called. I've only ever paid real attention to the girls for fear of Prim being called.

Effie takes her time digging through the bowl before she selects one of the papers. She flattens it with her nails and reads it to herself before approaching the microphone. Doesn't she know we're all dying waiting? But this is surely for the cameras. To hold the suspense. We are the last district and this is the last name. Suspense is crucial.

"Arabella Malloy."

There's a fire that ignites in five different areas across the town square. Her mother collapses to the ground and sobs to the point that other women wrap their arms around her. Her only daughter. Called to fight to the death against Victors who have already killed and have the taste for blood.

Zath is held back by two other coal miners. They mumble things to him but he only shakes his head and yells. It's not fair. His little sister is only a year away from never having to go through this again. It shouldn't be her.

Sora breaks the line of people and dashes to his sister who is making her way slowly towards the stage where Peeta and Effie await. He jumps and grabs her ankle. He seems much younger in these moments as he cries for her to stay and is pulled away by Gale who rushes in and scoops him up. The Peacekeepers look too anxious to let a poor boy grieve and pull back his sister.

Gale sets Sora down but I see his fists shaking. He's already watched one of his friends be swallowed by the Games. He saw what it did to me. He won't see the same happen to her. But there she goes, up the stairs. She takes Peeta's hand and I notice she is shaking. Ara is shaking. Rocks don't shake. No, it must be Peeta. For her eyes are still so calm. But her skin is pale and she looks sick.

And I break Haymitch's grip and run for the stage. I won't let her. I'll volunteer. I'll find a way. She can't. Not Ara. Not her. But just when I reach the stairs, she turns to me and shakes her head in one firm movement. It stops me in my tracks just long enough for Haymitch to regain his hold on me along with my mother. She doesn't want to see me up there again.

I want to fight, but Ara stares me down and shakes her head again. She's made up her mind. She's going. And I can't risk going up there now. She looks so strong that surely she'll get sponsors. But if I interfere, I'll ruin that chance for her. So I stop fighting and watch as two of my best friends shake hands and are pulled into the Justice Building before they are whisked away to their deaths.

Just before the door swings shut, I see Ara nod to someone in the crowd. I follow her gaze. Ten people, boys and girls alike, standing nowhere near each other have raised their three fingers and blown a kiss to Ara simultaneously. We've been friends for years, and yet...

I don't recognize any of the people giving her a final goodbye.


	2. Goodbye

Katniss' Point of View

I pace nervously back and forth and I try and pretend that I'm not here. This isn't happening. This can't be happening. Gale meets me in the hall. He's in just as much of a panic as I am. His footsteps are heavier as he paces. Just for a second, he stops and stares at the wall. My eyebrows raise as I watch him lift his fist.

"Gale" I whisper and take a step closer. "Gale!" I shout and grab his fist just before it collides with the wall.

He stares at me with desperate eyes. "What?" he snaps. He shakes his fist free of my hand.

"You can't. The Officials…"

He laughs a sick laugh. "What more can they possibly do?" Gale steps closer and is almost nose-to-nose with me. "They took you last year. And now they're taking her! What more can they do?"

"Your family" I blurt out, desperate for a reason to give him. His thoughts scare me… because they are my own.

Gale takes this into consideration. He nods slowly and steps back. "Yeah. My family. And hers. You and I have to take care of them. We owe her."

I nod and promise that I will.

The door swings open and Ara's brothers and mother exit. Zath holds his head high and rests his arm around Sora who is shaken by sobs. Her mother is empty and that scares me more than anything. The Official is next to exit. He searches the hallway and motions me over.

Gale nudges me over. I release his hand and take one deep breath before walking into Ara's room.

Ara is sitting defiantly on the desk rather than the couch. I step closer and notice that her features aren't as hard as I had thought. Her cheeks are round and her face is so young. I can't find the sturdy features that once gave her such a confident appearance. She smiles a small smile at me and I see that her eyes, despite everything, are still calm.

"You're going to be alright" I tell her. "Haymitch will help you. Just make sure you find water. You're strong Ara. You can do this."

And I feel like a hypocrite because isn't this what Gale told me before I left? And I didn't believe him. How can I ask Ara to trust me that she can make it out of the Hunger Games alive?

Obviously, I didn't reassure her. "It's the Quarter Quell Katniss. And I'm going in with 12 Victors who know these Games."

She didn't say it, but I could tell how she was hinting that she won't make it out. But she will. If I can, she can too. "Find a bow" I instruct her. "You're just as good as me and the bow saved my life."

Ara nodded and suddenly pulled me into a hug. Her breath tickled my ear. "Listen to me" she whispers and still holds onto me. "When they come to you and they ask, you have to say yes. Just trust me. There are things that happened while you were in the arena that you don't know about yet. Things are changing. You need to agree though."

Agree to what? I wanted to ask but Ara's eyes flickered to the door. She's always had a better sense of hearing than me. The Peacekeepers must be coming.

She pulls back from me. "And don't trust anyone who doesn't have my mark of approval" she says with a little smile. I'm so confused by what she's talking about that I don't register that I didn't tell her all the tricks of survival I learned in the Games. With her eyes still on the door, she slips something into my hand. Without any words, I move it into my pocket and she smiles one more time.

"You can trust Peeta!" I call just as the door is closing. I feel like I've failed her as a friend as they send in Gale. I didn't help her at all. My hands form fists and I feel the paper dig into my palm. I unfold it but frown at the list of names. I don't recognize half of them. I bite my lip and fold it back up. Then I walk down the hall to say goodbye to Peeta.

…

Ara's Point of View

Gale is the next one in the room. He doesn't smile. He doesn't pretend like everything's going to be ok. He only holds his arms open for me to run into. No tears escape my eyes because I won't let them. I'm going to die.

"You're strong Ara. You can do this. Just be smart. Protect yourself. Don't let anyone get in your way and watch out for yourself." He stares me right in the eyes when he says this. "Don't make alliances that will hurt you" his eyes seem to say.

I shake away from his grip. "I have to protect him. You know that."

Gale shudders and makes no move to accept nor deny this.

"You watch out for my family, ok? And when Katniss refuses, because I know she will, push her. Alright?"

Gale nods and the Peacekeepers are back to take him away. It seems he hasn't been here nearly long enough. I give his hand one last squeeze and try my best at a weak smile. I want to leave him with some illusion that I am confident.

Someone ushers me out of the room. I crane my neck to see if I can see anyone's retreating forms, but they're already gone. I hold my head up high for the cameras that greet me at the entrance to the train. I don't smile. I don't pretend this is ok. I just climb the steps without any emotion and never turn back.

The train is more beautiful than anything we have in District 12. I've never seen so many colors before. There's a shade of blue on the walls I've only ever seen on the cakes Peeta decorates. I sigh and let my hands cover my face. I have to protect him. I have to. But I don't want to die. Is there any way we can both get out alive? No. One victor. Those are the rules. Katniss is lucky. She's still alive. It's her ignorance that has saved her life.

The door slides open and someone walks in. I compose myself in case it's Effie. But it's not. It's a rather awful smelling Haymitch. Peeta tails behind him, looking at the floor.

I cross my arms as they take seats next to me. Haymitch's eyes are only open in little slits. Probably because he's too drunk to see straight and he's trying to decide how many of me there really are. "You two really have no luck, do you?" he says with a drunken laugh.

Peeta shakes his head but doesn't say a word. I wait for Haymitch to say something. Anything. But he's silent as the grave and there isn't enough time for him to speak because a bottle's also pressed to his lips.

I sigh and stand when I decide that this little meeting isn't going to be of any use to me. I hear Peeta get up as well, and together we head down the hall to our rooms. He follows me into mine and I don't push him out. My heart races a little as I close the door. I try to compose myself and go over the facts Peeta holds to be true so I don't let anything slip.

_He is in the Games for a second time. We are both competitors. I am Katniss' friend. He loves Katniss. Katniss is at home with her family. The rebellion doesn't exist. There is peace in the Districts. Everything is ok._

We sit down on my bed in silence for a few moments. I wait for him to talk, because I can see by the way his hands squeeze the sheets, he's anxious. His eyes travel across the room the way they did when we were in school together and he was trying to solve a math problem. He was always smart. He used to help me in school.

"I'm sorry you got dragged into this" he says and turns to me. "It's not fair."

I turned to stare at the wall this time. I could tell him now. Now would be a great time to tell him exactly what had happened during the Games. But I didn't say it.

"I'd rather it be me than my brother or Katniss or Prim" I answer truthfully.

Peeta smiles a genuine smile at me and I wonder how many more of those I'll get to see. Are the Games really as miserable as they seem? If I survive, what will really be left of me? Peeta shakes his head, as if shaking away a thought.

"Any tips?"

He thinks for a second. "Don't let the others see you as weak. It's better to give up your talent than to let them choose you for an easy target. You're good with a bow like Katniss?" I nod. "She told me a lot about you, got me up to date since we haven't talked since…"

"Since we were seven" I say with a smile.

Peeta nods with a laugh. "I still remember that one day when the teacher asked who knew why we use canaries in the mines. And your hand shot right up" he laughed. I smiled, happy to be here reliving better days. I tried to pretend we weren't on a train but sitting outside me house or his. I had maybe a week left with him, and now all I wished was that we hadn't grown apart.

"We were best friends then" I said with a smile.

"What happened?" he asks lightly, but I can tell there's more meaning to his question.

"After my father died, I didn't really have time for friends. I still feel terrible for not keeping our friendship. But I had so much to worry about. Every year, seeing Zath step up for tesserae, I wanted to help. And then Katniss and I started hunting. She fed her family, and I told myself by feeding mine, I could keep Zath out of the Games.

"I used to think about you all the time though. I missed playing games after school and exploring the forbidden places. Remember how we used to dare each other to get as close as possible to the Hob?"

"Yeah. Who knew you'd practically grow up there" he laughs.

I shrug. "Thank Katniss for that one. Our fathers taught us to shoot, but mine wouldn't let me near the Hob. He took my brother instead."

"So you grew up with Katniss too?"

I nod. "I thought I told you that once. Maybe not. Her father and my father were friends and they would take both of us out to the woods. But I guess because I had two brothers, my father wanted me to remain more innocent."

"You think Katniss isn't innocent?"

I bit my lip, caught in my own words. "I think she's more mature than most seventeen year olds."

"You're a pretty mature seventeen year old" Peeta points out.

"It's different. She supports her whole family. I only take on some of the burden."

"It's still impressive. I don't know how you two do it, taking on all that responsibility. My parents hardly let me watch the shop and you two are feeding your families."

I smile and turn to face him again. I wait for him to meet my eyes. He has such beautiful eyes. The color of the ocean I've never seen. And if it was any other color, I'd be disappointed. "You don't think about it. You just know, _this is what I have to do_, and you do it."

Peeta nods with a distant look in his eyes. I sigh and fall back on the bed. "Those stylists are going to pick me to pieces" I laugh, trying to lighten the air.

Again he nods, his mind in a different place. After a few moments, he falls back on the bed with me. "What angle do you want to play?"

"I don't know" I admit. I hadn't thought much about this. Peeta had just been himself, the caring, star-crossed lover. And that had kept him alive. I couldn't interfere there. I had to make sure no one thought I was in any way romantically involved with him. He was Katniss'. And if he is smart, he will play it up big time now that they are separated. The Capitol people will want to see their reunion.

As for me, there aren't many choices. I'm not too worried about sponsors. I'll direct Haymitch to send any of my gifts along to Peeta. And if he doesn't then I'll just hand them to him while we're in the arena. But still, I need something.

I think Peeta senses my lack of ideas. "Be yourself" he says.

"And what is that?"

"The hero" he says in all seriousness. I want to laugh, but he seems so sure that this is me, that I don't. "You're always there to help. No matter the cost."

I shake my head. "The Hunger Games aren't about heroes" I point out. "The Gamemakers want blood and pure savageness. Not heroes."

"Be honest. If you saw one of the younger kids, let's say she's twelve, and she was drowning in some kind of lake, what would you do?"

I bite my tongue because he's smirking and he knows I was going to try and lie. He already knows the answer, so I say it. "I would jump in and get her" I admit softly.

"Exactly" he says with a proud smile. "So why try and pretend you're something else? You'll let it slip in the arena and then you'll have to explain that later."

I don't argue that for me to have to explain later, I would need to survive. This means he would die. And according to my plans, that's not going to happen. But I say nothing and just nod my head. I only have one mission in these Games, so why not?

For a few hours, Peeta and I take turns reliving old memories, and I feel as if we've made up for all the time when our lives took separate paths. I've learned so much about him that I've only had to wonder about. His own mother was counting him out the first time, and she wasn't exactly placing bets on him this time. His father was nervous, but proud of his son. He loved working in the bakery and didn't see it as a chore the way his brothers did. He had the hands of a meticulous artist. Somehow those hands had been trained to kill.

It's sick really.

I told him about my brothers and my mother. How she struggled to remain head of household and eventually gave it up to Zath and me. Her concern is Sora, and Zath and I take care of the rest. We're a team really. The way Katniss and Gale and I are a hunting team, Zath and I are one. We share the burdens and we split the hardships. We step in for the other and we keep the family thriving. I think we both have the same unspoken goal: to give Sora the life neither of us can have.

Peeta tells me I always do that, put others first. But I can count a decent amount of times where I haven't thought about others. He says they don't count because I disregarded to some to help others. It seems he's painted a marvelous picture of me in his head, and he won't let it be squashed by criticism. I like thinking that he defends me. I like knowing he thinks highly of me, but I wonder if he still will when he finds out.

Effie calls us to dinner. Peeta gives me his hand and helps me to my feet. I almost forget we're on our way to the Capital. I wish the train would never stop, or just crash short of its destination.

The table is much too large for the four of us. We spread out awkwardly so that there are chairs between each of us. This feels like a war meeting and not a dinner, and I've been to enough of them to know the difference.

Haymitch is still drinking, but at a slower pace. He rubs his temples frequently and I figure he's pretty hung over by now. Effie sits up tall as if she were having dinner with President Snow himself and not to starving, District 12 teenagers. She looks ridiculous in her Capital getup. I hope they don't make me look like her.

There's a wonderful array of foods on the table, but I only pick at mine. I don't have much of a stomach for this flavorful stuff. I'm used to stews and tasteless meals. And this is a colorful feast for people not like me. I turn to Haymitch, in his drunken state, and watch to see if he'll give us any help. It doesn't look hopeful.

"Can you tell us anything about what to expect?" I ask suddenly.

The table grows quiet now that Effie has stopped her meaningless chatter and turned to watch the scene unfold. Haymitch points to Peeta with a turkey leg. "Ask him. He's been there already."

I try again with a little more demand. "But as our mentor, I'd like to hear something from _you_."

He grumbles something and clatters his unused silverware. He opens his mouth while chewing and barks out, "Survive". Then a wave of laughter consumes him and he can't control himself.

I roll my eyes. I give up for the moment, but decide to make sure Haymitch understands my mission and how determined I am not to fail later.

After dinner, Effie pulls all of us reluctantly over to a couch to watch the reruns of the reapings. I pay close attention to the Careers because I know they'll be the biggest threat. Not surprisingly, in each district, the Career looks worn and mournful. The new tribute is shaken and stares fearfully at the Career. Suddenly, their hero has become their enemy. They size up the Career and have the same realization as I did. This Quell will be a bloodbath. Twelve will be killed by nightfall and I can name them all right now.

I focus on the Victors.

From District 1, there is a blonde woman with a silly name: Gloss. Who names these children? District 2 is a fierce looking woman named Enobaria. Something tells me that even if her name wasn't called, she would have found her way into these historic Games. The next frightening Victor is a girl names Johanna from District 7. Her hair is shaven clean off and that alone gives her an edge of brutality. One thing is for sure as Victors and tributes are called one after another: I can't kill them. I tell myself it's because they would kill me first, but really, I decide that I couldn't get my arm to shoot an arrow and end a life.

And then I realize that I'm going to have to. Because surely he won't be left alone. He will be targeted and I'll have to be there to help him take down his enemies.

The one tribute that catches my eye is a young boy, he barely look eleven, named Gareth. He's from District 9. He is small and shaking slightly as he climbs the steps to the Justice Building. And then his legs give out and he collapses on the stage. I know from watching years of the Hunger Games that he will have no sponsors. And at least eight other tributes have jumped at his weakness and decided to pick him off first.

He stands again and takes no one's hand. He is shaken but glares into the camera. He is smart. His hair is the same blonde as the stalks of grain in the background. He's a little smaller than Sora. I wonder for a moment what kind of talent he could have, and then shake my head as a new tribute appears on screen.

And finally, there's us. I think that I look strong, but it's hard for me to tell because I know exactly what's going on in that girl's head. She's scared for her family. She's scared they'll have to watch her murder. She's scared for a childhood friend who's already waiting on the stage and ready to take her hand. She's scared that she won't be able to protect him.

I turn from the screen and watch Peeta intently. His face is aglow from the light of the television. He watches us intently and nods, having accepted that we performed well. Because isn't that what all this is? A show for the Capital. Some entertainment to distract them from their worry-free lives.

I'm the first to leave the room and I don't stop until I'm in my room. I feel safer beneath the war blankets, but not safe enough to sleep. I lay awake for what feels like hours until my body begins to shut down and I can't keep my eyes open. But even in sleep, I'm not resting. Nightmares plague my dreams and I remember waking up after I fiercely kicked the wall in my sleep. My foot hurts and so I find myself again unable to sleep. If I'm this restless on the train, how will I ever sleep in the arena?

Simple. I won't.


	3. Preparing

I wake early because I hadn't slept at all. I creep down the hall and peer into windows until I find Haymitch's room. He's lying face down on his bed with, not surprisingly, a bottle nearby. I slide the door open and he doesn't even stir. I try to rouse him, but he's sleeping like the dead. And for a moment I wonder if he _had_ died. My fingers dig into his neck searching for a pulse. It's there.

I step back and land one solid kick in his side. Haymitch bolts up and thrashes blindly. Eventually he settles down and glares at me while rubbing his side. I hope it'll bruise for all the lack of help he's giving us. "We need to talk" I say all businesslike.

"Great. Let's start with why you're waking me up so early" he snaps.

I take no offense and continue on. I make sure the door is locked. "We're going to keep him alive" I say without explaining.

Even in his hung-over state, he understands. "How alive?"

"Completely. Haymitch, I don't care what you have to do. I'm going to do everything I can in the arena and I need to know that you're going to do everything in _your_ power to save him."

"Seems an awful heavy burden. Don't you trust his strength?"

I shake my head and don't fall into one of his traps. "You and I both know that Katniss won't fight if anything happens to him."

His eyebrows rise mischievously but I keep my composure. "Would there happen to be another reason you're willing to sacrifice your life for him?"

"If there is," I say without missing a beat, "then it will only help me fight".

He doesn't seem to believe me, but for the moment, I don't really care. I'm more worried about Peeta than anything and securing his safety precautions. "Anything else?" he asks sarcastically.

"What else can I do to keep him safe?"

Haymitch doesn't think for long. "If we miss the time, then we're not coming. And then you need to take yourself out of the picture before there are too few of you left."

I nod although we're talking about my demise. It doesn't matter. Sacrifices have to be made. I agreed to this in joining the rebellion.

"Are we going to tell him?"

Haymitch shakes his head. "Leave him out of it. That way if something goes wrong, he truly knows nothing."

I shudder at the thought of Peeta's capture. I'd do everything possible to prevent that. I'd throw myself under one of those airships just to keep him away. They'll do terrible things to him. "Keep your promise" I say before I leave.

I didn't expect to run into Peeta. He stares at me skeptically. "What were you doing?"

I lie easily. "Waking the dead."

He nods slowly and follows me to breakfast. Effie mumbles something about my not being dressed, but I don't take heed. We eat and I dress before the train begins to slow and I hear the defining roar of the Capital and its entire people. They wait at the station for us and shout for our attention as we climb down the metal steps. I can hear each one of my steps as my feet make the metal sing. I try and focus on this rather than all the people. How many of them will die? There's no doubt in my mind that both sides are not above killing civilians, but still, how many have to die?

We escape the crowds as we enter into some other car that transports the four of us in silence to a building much taller than I could have ever dreamed a building can stand. And this is one of the shorter in the Capital. Would there be time to evacuate the buildings before the attacks?

"As tributes of District 12, your floor is the twelfth. You have the penthouse which is very nice" Effie says more to my benefit because Peeta's already been through this once.

Our floor is just as extravagant as the train and I feel out of place in this room. But the feeling doesn't last long because we are quickly whisked out and down an elevator that moves much too fast for my liking. I find myself gripping the walls and pushing my back into the wall as hard as possible. My stomach drops when we stop moving.

I don't where Peeta has gone, because a little group of stylists has pulled me away and into a room. I'm stripped of my close and all hair. My skin burns from whatever they've placed on it. One of them with a tattooed skull clucks at a scar along my shoulder. When I'm done being prodded and poked, another man enters and the three of them leave.

He smiles at me and I'm happy to see that he's not as iridescently dressed as the rest of the Capital. "I'm Cinna" he says and pulls back his jacket a little. I catch a glint of the gold pin on his shirt and smile.

"Ara" I say and shake his hand.

He explains how we're not going for the typical youthful look. This is a competition with Victors and cuteness isn't going to win me anything. I'm not too worried about my impression, but I agree anyway because I can tell he's put so much thought into my appearance. Isn't it strange to have a profession where you decorate people for slaughter. And he seems so calm as if I'm going to a ball and not a death match.

There's some kind of makeup applied to my face that Cinna won't let me see. But he seeks my approval from the clothes. It's black and dark, and for a second I think I'll be dressed as a lump of coal. It's not what I expected from the Cinna who lit my friend on fire. But then he presses something in the sleeve and the material comes to life in the glow of an invisible fire.

"It's so lifelike" I say and touch the fabric. It's not even hot, but I was sure it was a glowing ember. Cinna smiles appreciatively and helps me slip into it. It covers almost all of my skin. My hair is dusted with something red in places to continue the effect. I hope I look fierce enough to be taken seriously. Could I pass as a Victor? Then I wouldn't have to worry about guarding Peeta from the nonVictors.

I'm pushed into the awful elevator that reminds me too much of the one that leads to the mines. And for a moment, I can feel the flames of an explosion tickling my feet. I brace myself and push my way out quickly. Peeta is waiting for me outside. He's dressed similarly and he looks truly frightening, as if he has a trick to survival and knows how to win this all without trying. I hope I look half as good.

He gives me his arm as we step into our carriage to take us to the opening ceremony. It's not the same as it was for Katniss and Peeta. Our hands can't be locked, nor our arms, because I'm still relying on the hope that his determination to return to his love will buy him sponsors. I distance myself just enough to make it clear we are only two tributes chosen at random.

I'm shaking and so jealous for a moment of Katniss. Jealous of how she could hold his hand and squeeze it as she faced her trial before execution. I have only the comfort of his body heat next to mine and the slight touch when we turn and our legs brush together.

"Try and smile" he whispers to me. "You have a beautiful smile."

I can feel my cheeks heat up as if I really am an ember.

The carriage makes its way into a huge coliseum styled building and I can hear a roaring like constant thunder. Only it's not thunder. It's the roar of the Capital. There's so many of them that they blend into an ocean of obnoxious colors. They cheer and applaud as we enter. We're the last chariot and the crowd just as enthusiastic. It must be our burning bodies.

Peeta nudges me and I look at one of the screens showing our faces. They've zoomed in on me. I don't look frightened like I feel. I look… determined. Which I guess can be taken in a number of ways. I smile because Peeta wants me to, not because of the Capital people screaming.

Our chariot comes to a halt and current President Snow reads the annual speech about the necessity of the Games and the glory for the Victor. I see right through this lie as I make eye contact with Peeta and then the District 4 Victor, Finnick. I hope the Capital can see as well. But I doubt it. They're too blinded with perfecting their exteriors to notice the terrors of our world.

A cold breeze blows into the roofless coliseum and my burning clothes does nothing to protect me from its chill. Peeta moves closer to me as he feels the cold as well. Our bodies are the only source of heat. I smile for real this time.

I look up to see President Snow look down at the same time. His eyes meet mine and I stare up challengingly. I don't fear him. He can't call me out for being part of the rebellion. That would mean that a rebellion_ exists_ and he's currently denying this. And he can't do anything to me because I'm in the Games and people will be watching for me. The same is true for my family. If I somehow survive to the final eight then interviews will be held and my family simply can't disappear from those. I'm safe, even in his domain.

Our chariot is also the last to leave the coliseum. I actually smile when we get back to our floor because it's warm and there's a bed bigger than our shared room at home waiting for me. I only change because Cinna tells me too. And I'm too tired to protest, so I strip out of my ember outfit and pull on a shirt. I don't care about pants and I don't have time for them because I'm too tired from my sleepless night. I crawl under the thick blankets and fall asleep before Effie comes in to tell me to get some rest.

…

It's hell when I wake up. I'm surrounded by Cinna and the stylists. They rouse me from my bed and dress me in another full body outfit. This one has shorter sleeves and seems awfully bland for their style. Cinna pulls my hair back into two braids along my skull. "Good luck" he says and kisses my forehead before leaving me alone.

It's only a matter of seconds before Effie is knocking on my door telling me that today is a big, big day. Training day. It all clicks and my heart races a little. My stomach growls and I wonder what happened to breakfast.

In the hallway, I catch sight of Peeta stealing a piece of toast off the table. I watch Effie closely and widen my path so that I pass the table. When she's not watching (she's too busy yelling at Haymitch for not being on the elevator yet) I snatch some kind of pastry and hide it behind my back when I get on the elevator.

Effie promises Peeta and I that she will meet us later. Apparently Haymitch and her are _very_ late for something else that I didn't quite hear because I'm trying to hide the smell of the pastry I've smuggled. When the doors close, both Peeta and I scarf the little food we got and smile at each other. "Does this always happen" I laugh and cover my mouth because I'm still chewing.

Peeta nods. "Yeah. It seems that Effie is always in a hurry and every day is always…"

"A big, big day?" I wonder aloud.

"Exactly" he laughs. This is the most we've talked since we were kids and it's almost hilarious at this death tournament. In the elevator, going down to the training room where we'll learn to kill each other, Peeta and I can talk and relax as if we're sitting in the forest back in District 12.

The elevator stops with a bump and I grip the wall. Peeta smiles and gives me his hand before we exit. And I'm extremely hesitant to take it. If I do, and the other Victors see, that ruins Peeta's romance with Katniss angle and it will also set me out as _the other woman_. But my hands are shaking and I'd rather seem like the second girl than a coward, so I take his hand and smile as well.

The training arena is very intimidating. The ceiling has to be fifty feet from the ground and the walls are slate grey like our outfits. We're all dressed the same. The only difference is the District number on the sleeve and back. There are stations all over the floor with an array of weapons and skills teaching.

I know where I want to go immediately and I release Peeta's hand. Haymitch said nothing about staying together. It's fine if we do, but I _will_ go to every station I want to. I need to learn everything I can if I'm going to get Peeta out of this thing alive.

I'm the only one at the shelter building station. The instructor has me tie up branches into a lean-to. I'm hoping that this station may give me a clue to what I can expect in the arena. I don't care about making shelter. I know the basics. But what I really want to know is what the arena is going to look like.

"Hey" Peeta says from my left. I jump a mile high and clutch my chest.

"Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

He shakes his head. "What are you up to?"

"Picking out the weakest links" I say somewhat truthfully. I've had my eye on the girl from 4. If I had to take someone, I'd take her down easily. She's a pick, barely big enough to clarify as a teenager. Her face is mature but her body is so young. Long blonde hair flutters in the breeze circulating around the training room. I watch as she struggles to climb a simple net. And I'm not the only tribute that's noticed.

I turn away and try not to think of their bloodlust and those crazed eyes. What is it about this that turns children into killers?

"I think we're going to have a problem Brithe" Peeta whispers near my ear. I turn and search for the District 2 boy. I catch sight of him by the javelins. He wields one like it's a toothpick. Through the uniform we all wear, I can see his bulging muscles. The guy is everything I'd ever picture a monster looking like. His hair is almost nonexistent, it's so short.

The javelin travels through the air at lightning speed and decapitates a dummy twenty feet away. He turns and meets my gaze with a smirk. I see his eyes flicker down to where I'm twiddling with some rope.

Without thinking, I hand the rope to Peeta. I stand up quickly and make my way over to the archery area. The guide is speaking to me, but I'm not listening. Brithe and I are in the middle of a deadly staring contest. I grab a bow and the guide tries to pull it back. I break the stare for only a second to glare at the guide. "I know what I'm doing" I snap. He retreats and I grab one single arrow.

There are targets set up ten, twenty, and thirty feet away. They are round and so unlike a real target. Still, I notch the arrow and pull the string back to the curve of my lip. My aim is at the farthest target when out of the corner of my eye, I catch Brithe smacking Gloss on the shoulder and laughing.

It happens so fast I know I wasn't thinking. My arm swings around and a new target is chosen. I release the string and it snaps back into place. The arrow flies just as fast as the javelin and the boys' eyes struggle to follow. I grin when I hear the thunk and then the splitting of fabric. The dummy, almost sixty feet away, no longer has a head, and if it had a heart, it would be skewered now.

Brithe turns back to me now. The smirk is gone and his eyes are calculating. I curtsy mockingly and return to Peeta. He's smiling and pats my hand. "Nice job."

"Thanks" I say. Together, we make our way over to another station. This one is all about running and endurance. The floor over here is some kind of belt and it is surrounded by three walls.

"Welcome" the guide says as if we're at some fancy restaurant. "Care to try?" he asks me.

"What is it?" I ask and step forward. Peeta is watching not too far behind.

The guide places me at the center of the belt. "A simulator" he answers. _I already knew that_ I want to snap. He steps back and suddenly the three walls are not bare. They are covered in the most real forest simulator I've ever seen. I almost reach out to touch a tree. A bird flutters close by and sings a song.

Then the floor starts moving. I'm thrown off balance for a second. I look down and see the belt moving under my feet. It rises and dips in places to simulate holes and rocks. It also is reflecting a forest floor. I look ahead and run as fast as I can.

The rocks are what trip me up the most. I'm used to the holes because there are so many in District 12 and I'm used to dodging them. I can leap over them or side step them without second thought. But the rocks are foreign. I usually hunt near the taller trees and the ground is moist and slippery there.

One rock catches my toe and I tumble to the floor. The simulator stops immediately and I roll my eyes. If they're going to make this feel real, keep it running. Because in the arena, I would have scratched my face to pieces and then I would have had to get back up and keep going. But the training is risk free. No harm can come to us. How ironic that in the arena, they'll make sure anything that can harm us does.

Peeta isn't much better than I was. And that's me lying to myself. He's awful. The rocks and the holes trip him up. He keeps moving at a decent pace, but he'd be no match for any of the Careers who train for this or any kind of monster they send our way. It's his leg and the injury. It's better now and he's gotten much better, but there's still a slight limp. He's still uncomfortable moving with an artificial limb.

I don't wait around too long because he falls soon. I don't help him up so that he doesn't look weak under the gaze of the Careers. The Victor from 11, Sig, has her eyes on Peeta. I think of Rue and hope for an alliance, but Sig is looking for blood, not friendship.

We move to the weight area for Peeta. It's his turn to prove himself. He easily lifts one weighing one hundred pounds and tosses it effortlessly at the wall where it collides and almost leaves a dent. Almost. The walls here are stronger than any metal I've ever heard of. It makes me scared to think of the things I don't know exist.

With as much effort as I put into this, I should be able to at least lift a sixty pound metal ball and throw it a decent distance. But I'm struggling with forty pounds and I can barely get it over my head.

Peeta stares at me sympathetically but I pretend I don't notice. He steps over and I can feel my cheeks heat up in embarrassment. I'm supposed to be strong. I'm supposed to be able to protect him! But how am I supposed to do that if I won't even be able to lift him?

"Here" he says and grabs another forty. "When you lift, make sure you get down low and kind of spring up with your legs. Getting it past the waist is the hardest part, so concentrate more there. Keep it farther from your body and it won't hurt so much."

How did he know it hurt? I do as he says and find that it is slightly easier to pick up. This time I'm actually able to throw it rather than just drop it to the ground. He smiles and nods. "Thanks" I say.

He nods but grabs my elbow and pulls me over to the place where I saw the blonde drop like a rock from the net. "Now you show me how to climb."


	4. Make an Impression

It's early when I wake up and I know Haymitch will be incredibly cranky, but I'm running out of time. "Haymitch!" I shout and shove his shoulder.

There's a grumble of a response and he shoots up. His arms swing like crazy and I duck down to avoid a fist to the face. When his eyes finally snap open, they are bloodshot and his lips are set in a grimace. "What the **hell** could you possibly want _now_?"

I swat the finger he's pointing in my face. "You need to tell me something." I sit down on the bed and stare at him with hard eyes. "Who knows…" I suddenly remember Cinna's cautious glance towards the mirror. They're listening. "Who can I trust?" I rephrase my question.

Haymitch raises his eyebrows at my hesitation. There's no way to tell him. I mouth the words _listening devices_ and he nods. "Tish from 3" he says. "Gareth from 9" he adds. "Brithe from 2." This time though, Haymitch shakes his head hurriedly when he says the name. A decoy name to throw out to the listeners. We can't have them know every one of us. And then I watch as he opens his hand and flashes four fingers. "_Him_," he emphasizes, "you can trust."

I nod. "Got it" I say.

Haymitch just stares at me for a few seconds with his bloodshot eyes. I can tell that's about all I'm ever going to get out of him so I leave the room. It's dark in the whole penthouse and it's weird to not have someone breathing down my neck and pushing me to some place to get ready for something. It must be very early because not even Effie is up yet.

I tiptoe past my room and into the living room. I may never get this time again. I catch my breath when I notice someone else sitting on the windowsill. I crouch lower and make my footsteps absolutely silent. Peeta doesn't even move as I creep closer. I don't want to scare him so I call out, "Peeta?"

He turns and smiles at me. "Hey" he says and pats a place across from him for me to sit. I do and I smile when our toes touch. Katniss is incredibly lucky. I have to bring him back for her.

"How come you're up?" I ask softly, afraid to wake Effie.

Peeta shrugs. "Can't sleep. You?"

I have to lie. "Same." Which isn't really that big of a lie. I really can't sleep: haven't been able to for months.

Peeta sighs and stares out the window. "Did you ever think you would be here?" he asks softly. I can tell what his answer is from the deep sigh and the tense muscles of his shoulders. I pity him more than I think is healthy.

I can't stand lying to him. It's not fair. Maybe someday I can tell him the truth about everything. The rebellion, the reason why I'm here, the plan, his role, and all the love I've felt. Someday. Those are words for only two ears. And now, there are surely a few more pairs listening. "I don't know" I say and turn my head so maybe he can't see the guilt in my eyes. "It always seemed possible, yet impossible that it would be me."

He nods but doesn't say anymore. I reach out and place a hand on his knee. He turns to me with mournful eyes. "I am sorry."

"For what?" he asks, a crease forms on his forehead.

"All of this. It's not fair. It shouldn't be you. It shouldn't be any of you. If they have to have their Games, they should have left you alone. You've sacrificed enough. Why can't they just leave you alone?"

"They will never leave me alone" he says with haunting certainty.

All conversation stops between us for a few minutes. I just stare out the window and watch all of the people of the Capital. They don't know how lucky they are. They walk down the street in the most outrageous clothing with hairstyles stranger than anything I've ever seen. So ignorant. They don't understand. None of them have ever felt this anxiety. The feeling that death is your shadow. It's a feeling that everyone in District 12 is accustomed to. And now, my shadow is larger than I am.

I don't think they be able to get us out. It's just too… impossible. The rebellion, everything. It will survive. And the rebellion will be able to do the impossible. But getting us out of the Hunger Games? That's an impossible that will always remain impossible. I've seen Haymitch pull through, but I don't see him being able to get more than one person out of the Hunger Games. Even with the tributes that are in on it, there's just no way.

There's only one way that Peeta's getting home alive. I have to make sure he wins.

Peeta reaches for my hand and I give it to him. He flips it over and stares intently at the creases and traces them with his calloused fingers. "You should get some sleep" he says and gives my hand a squeeze.

"So should you."

He smiles and stifles a laugh. "Yes, because tomorrow's another big, big day" he says sarcastically.

It's a very restless night. I can't sleep and I don't try after the second hour of rolling around. And when the pink sunlight begins to push into my room, I give up and pull on the training uniform. Effie will probably be surprised when she sees that I'm up before she comes to get me.

I need to start thinking. I sit on the floor with my back up against my bed. Make an impression. That's what Haymitch said. But how do I do that? Better yet, how do I do that without exposing my connection to the rebellion?

What does it matter? I'm in the Games no matter what. I'm not expecting sponsors and I won't accept any gifts to me rather than Peeta. So why does my score matter? Still…

Effie calls for me not ten minutes later. Breakfast is solemn and there is little conversation. Peeta's eyes meet mine and we share the same glance. We both know what's waiting for us in the basement. And I don't think either of us has a plan.

The elevator ride is silent. Haymitch's last words of advice are the same as before: make an impression. They ride the elevator back up to the twelfth floor and leave us to sit with the other tributes on a long, slate bench. The first name is called and the girl from District 1 steps confidently into the room. How lucky she is. She is first. No matter what she does, she will stand out. They will remember her. The Capital steps the Careers up to win in more ways than one.

I watch each tribute step forward and into that room. I watch them carefully. My mind categorizes each one into three categories: threat, danger, deadly. I'm not even sure if the blonde from 4 can be placed in any of these. "Visen O'Dear" a metallic voice calls. She stumbles on her way in and I see a few Victors snicker. She doesn't stand a chance.

Peeta is taping his foot consistently with my heartbeat. "Arabella Malloy."

And I stand with my head held high. It's only Peeta and I now. "Hey Ara" he calls as a second thought when my hand is on the gate separating me from the cruelest people in the world. I turn and see he has his head lifted now. It's no longer resting in his hands. "Shoot straight."

I nod and try my best at a smile. "Lift high" I call back before stepping into the room.

It's not at all what I pictured. They're all sitting above like before, but now there is food and drink and no one seems at all interested. I step forward with feather light footsteps. Sure enough, there is a rack with arrows and a metal bow.

I grab the bow and notch an arrow. I glance up at the people. No one even looks my way. I glare up at them and aim at their little booth. The arrow soars up and is suddenly electrocuted in the air. A field. The Gamemakers laugh, but at least I have their attention.

_Make a statement. Make an impression_. I can't get Haymitch's voice out of my head.

I notch another arrow and aim at the human target some thirty feet away. But as I let the arrow fly and it spears the target's heart, I think, _it's not enough_. I glance up at my audience. A few are watching, but not enough. They're more interested in the feast before them.

There are only two more arrows and as I notch another, I'm trying to decide on another target. Impaling a target isn't enough. I glance around the training center. Everything is still here but what can I really excel in other than archery.

I take the arrow off the string and place it in my teeth. Then I sling the bow over my shoulder. I take slow, measured steps towards the net. It's rather easy to climb. But it's a little more difficult climbing it backwards. When I'm about two-thirds of the way up, I twist my feet and lace them in the netting. I slip my right arm through one of the squares of the netting and notch an arrow. It's much more difficult here. I feel like I'm falling and if I do move the wrong way, I will.

My arm really doesn't want to pull back. And when I do, I lurch forward a little more. Out of the corner of my eye, I see that I've caught a few others' attention. Good. Maybe falling to my death will be worth it.

I lock my eyes on the target. I exhale once and close my eyes when I let go of the string. I hear the purr of the arrow as it flies past me. I breathe once before my eyes snap open just in time to see my second arrow collide with the first. There's a terrible noise as metal penetrates metal. The second arrow splits the first in two.

I don't stop to see if I've caught any more attention. I climb down and drop to the ground. Without hesitation, I notch the final arrow. And now I have a problem. I'm not too great with physics and I don't know if it's possible to split an arrow that's currently splitting another arrow.

_Make an impression. Make an impression._

There's a glimmer off to my right. I freeze for a second and turn my head. In front of the Gamemakers is the shield. I know that much. But high in the corner is a flickering square.

"What could that be" I whisper to myself.

Something important.

In one fluid movement, I rotate my aim. The Gamemakers who were watching have widened eyes now. This only assures me they don't want me to aim at it. I smirk and let the last arrow soar into the square. There's an even louder screeching and a pop and spark. The entire shield is suddenly illuminated in a flash of color.

And then it's gone. I can tell that much from the horrified looks on the Gamemakers' faces. They see me differently as I walk more confidently out of the training center. I'm not just a tribute anymore. I'm a threat.


	5. Scared

"I'm not ready for this" I cry out as Cinna pulls me to a chair set up in my room.

He smiles sadly at me. Any other time, he may have laughed. But the time for laughing is over. We are way too close to the Games now to laugh. Every second I'm closer to be in that arena. And I'm so close to dying.

And yet, there is no crying. I almost wish there was. Instead, everyone is sullen. Cinna's assistants smile at me sadly and whenever they look as if they are about to cry, they quietly excuse themselves out of the room. It's as if they know what I'm doing. They know about my promise.

More than anything, more than the horrors of the arena and the thought of what Snow will do to me and my family, I'm afraid of them knowing. Am I that obvious? I decide to distance myself from Peeta for a while. Then at least he won't figure it out if I really am giving it away. It's better for him if he doesn't know.

"You'll do fine."

"But I don't even know what to say" I protest as he starts brushing my hair. It's slick and the brush runs easily through it because of whatever slime that had put in it earlier. I almost ask them what it is because my hair's always a thick, knotty mess.

"Peeta says I should act the part of a hero" I mutter but Cinna still hears me. I can tell by the way his smile bleeds into his words.

"I don't think that would be too hard for you. Seems kind of natural for you."

And for some reason, I snap. "You don't even know me." The moment the words are past my lips, I wish I hadn't said them. I feel bad because after all, he is only trying to help me and make me feel better. I've probably just shunned the only friend I'll make this whole journey.

Cinna is talking before I have a chance to apologize. "You're right. But from what I saw of the reaping, you are the only tribute that could ever pass as a hero."

"What about me makes me seem so hero worthy?" I ask myself.

"Determination" Cinna says without missing a beat. "You have a look in your eyes that says _I'm going to do whatever it takes_. It's very powerful" he says distractedly. I can detect the double meaning, but I'm not sure what it is. I don't think Cinna knows about the rebellion, but maybe I'm wrong.

He pulls my hair back softly as the assistance jam pins and something else in my hair. They don't have the gentle touch Cinna has, or the decency not to talk about other tributes while I'm in the room. "Have you seen Peeta's outfit? It's _so_ handsome. I can't wait to see what he'll look like! This year is so much better than last!"

The way they talk, I feel like they think we are contestants on some game show. Willing contestants that, at worst, will walk away without having won anything. Has the Capital really brainwashed its people? Or do they simply not care for the loss of life so long as they are entertained?

Cinna clears his throat. He must make some kind of motion, because the assistants disappear in a huff. Once the door closes, he apologizes for their behavior. "Do you think like them?" I ask. "Are the tributes just models for your designs?" I don't want to believe it, but the Capital people seem so shallow it wouldn't surprise me. I just hope he's not like them.

He sidesteps around the chair and kneels down so that our eyes meet. His are dark and troubled. He has the eyes of a seventy year old man who's seem much hardship. And he can't be any older than thirty, making me believe he's different.

"The tributes," he breathes and recoils a little at the name, "are the most unlucky people". His eyes flicker momentarily to the mirror above the dresser. I don't follow his gaze, but I can figure what's there. Recording devices. They're listening. Always listening.

I nod once and Cinna pulling my hair back. "So… hero?"

"Definitely hero. And be sure of yourself. It's very impressive when a young lady is."

I can't nod now because my hair is being ripped from my scalp. Forget Cinna having a gentle touch. "Ow" I gasp and reach backwards to slap his hand.

"Done" he says and releases my hair. It falls down, hard on my bare back. I want to see, but Cinna is pulling me over to my bed. The assistants must have dropped it off not long ago because it hadn't been there before.

The dress is breathtaking. But short. I notice this with raised eyebrows. And when I hold it up to my body, there's a good six inches from the end of the dress to my knee. It's all white except for two thin, red lines at the bottom. The dress appears to be made of thick lace.

"Cinna…"

He doesn't let me finish and slips it on over my head. It's as short as I would have thought. I try to tug it down a little but Cinna gives me a look. "It's fine" he says. "You look beautiful so don't worry."

I nod and fight the urge to pull on something longer. If I ever go home, Katniss will never let me live this down. I've never worn a dress before and this isn't exactly modest.

Cinna's hands are cold when they brush along the back of my neck to place a necklace. I hold it in my hand and smile. It's a shimmering, gold Mockingjay. He places pale ballet slippers at my feet for me to step into.

"Thank you" I say when he stands back up.

He pulls me into his arms and spins me around. I now face a mirror and catch my breath at my reflection. My hair is falling in light curls like waves. And, as much as I don't want to admit it, the dress is perfect. It blends nicely to let the real star shine: the Mockingjay.

I meet his eyes in the mirror and smile. He knows.

"You're very welcome."

There's three quick knocks on the door and before she can say "Big, big night," I've already thrown it open. Peeta waits a little behind her. The assistants are chattering away and I can't blame them. He looks incredibly handsome.

I bite my tongue. _You can't ruin his star-crossed lover ploy_, I remind myself. _You just can't_.

But it's so hard to remember this when he holds his hand out to me. Of course I take it and step into his side. He smiles down at me with calming blue eyes. "You look beautiful."

"You look handsome."

It's sad to see us, I think. Two kids off to interview before their death. I feel as if we are taping our final wishes and regrets. This may very well be the last time I get to feel this way. So I have no shame in clutching Peeta's hand as if it is a lifeline. I have until we exit the elevator, and I will not let go a moment sooner.

He doesn't let go either. My hand is a sweaty mess and yet, he holds on tight. He runs his thumb over my hand every few seconds. Can he feel my pulse? I'm more nervous for a stupid interview than fighting to the death.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow I may be dead. My family may see me lying on the ground with lifeless eyes. Blood pouring out of wounds and maybe an angry weapon jutting out of my skin. But not until they come for us, I won't give up until Peeta is safe.

His fingers slip through my grip when the doors swing open. I pull my hand to the side and he stares at his still outstretched hand as if I've bitten him. I feel the guilt of my actions, but I can't risk it. He can't afford another mark against him. He's already on Snow's list I presume.

How long until my name is there as well?

As District 12 tributes, we are the last to interview. This is so much worse. I'm watching all the other tributes step up and I know they all rehearsed this. Conversation flows so easily that I wonder if Caesar rehearsed _with_ them.

I'm standing in front of Peeta and when he shifts his weight, I can see he is smiling. Only Peeta. And this makes me smile as well.

I think we are the only two tributes that are actually friends. The other Victors don't even talk to the other from their district. Maybe it makes killing them easier. I'm sure half of them have plans to kill the ignorant ones in the first seconds of the Games.

Peeta gives me a little push on the back when the boy from 11 steps off the stage. I step confidently up the stairs, but my heart is hammering in my head. I can only hear a roar of applause. I take one step onto the stage and then remember I'm supposed to wait for Caesar to announce me. If he noticed my foot, he doesn't let on.

"And now, the brave and beautiful Arabella Malloy!"

My steps are sure and measured. Not too quick and yet not too slow. Caesar pulls me into a hug before I smooth my dress and sit down.

"I must say," he begins when the roar of the crowd settles. There are so many of them out there that I wonder for a second if I'm drowning. The games have already started and now, as I'm dying in a rainbow ocean, I'm remembering my interview.

But I can't be in the Games yet because my heart is beating too fast to just be remembering.

And it's only when I turn back to Caesar that I realize he had continued and is waiting for a response. Cinna told me to be confident. I can't be asking for a recap or I will seem stupid. Stupid doesn't win Games. Neither does nervous.

His eyes flicker to my necklace and I smile gratefully. "Yes, I love the Mockingjay. They've come to mean a lot to me" I say slowly. Hopefully someone out there catches my coded meaning. I know Gale will. Maybe Katniss too.

Caesar doesn't ask any more about it. Maybe he can tell I'm here to stir up trouble. "I've heard that you're pretty instinctive. What can you tell us about this?"

_I think that's a pretty stupid question_. What more is there to say? I'm an instinctive person. What do you want from me?

"I don't hesitate" I answer, ironically, without hesitation. "I trust my gut and I don't second guess myself."

"And do you see this being beneficial to you in the Hunger Games?"

Why do you ask me questions you already know the answer to? I starting to think this _interview_ is all for show. No one is interested in what I'm saying. It's what I'm _wearing_! Oh, look at that dress! Oh, look at her _hair_! The thoughts of the Capital. It scares me that these people are supposed to be making decisions for all of us. They are supposed to be the role models of the country. I'd be terrified to live in a country filled with Capital people.

"There are a lot of things that will help me" I answer cryptically. It's really his choice if he wants to have an intellectual conversation about the possible outcome of the Games with me.

Caesar leans forward on his knees and interlaces his hands. He captivates the audience and they grow silent, waiting for an answer to a question that hasn't been asked yet. "What other traits do you have that will benefit you?"

"Well," I say and stare out at the audience. I catch Cinna's gaze and realize I haven't played up the hero bit at all. I switch gears completely. I was going to tell Caesar that that was a secret, but I have to be a hero. "I have a goal, Caesar."

He nods for me to continue.

"I don't care what I have to do. I don't care who I have to kill. I _will _accomplish my goal."

"You seem very determined. Why is that?"

_I thought that was kind of obvious. _"Because I made a promise. And I don't break promises. Ever."

I walk off the stage to a round of applause but feeling very much like a failure. I don't think I portrayed a hero at all. I just blew it. Oh well. I remind myself that it doesn't really matter because I'm not looking for sponsors.

In the wings of the stage, I'm greeted by Effie, Haymitch, and Cinna. The only one who even makes me feel confident is Cinna. He pulls me into his arms and assures me that I did perfectly. I was confident. I don't feel confident, but if I looked it then I did much better than I expected.

Peeta steps onto the stage and I watch from a screen hanging from the wall. He smiles wide and _he _looks confident. I think he truly is.

"How are you finding the Capital?" Caesar asks. All I think is how stupid his questions are. Why ask these meaningless questions? To give the audience a feeling that they actually knew the tributes they favored or the ones they wanted to see slaughtered?

Peeta answers something about the showers and smelling like roses. Come to think about it, he did smell very good when we were together in training and all that. I wonder if I do too. Do the Capital showers spray smelling water? Seems kind of pointless really when we have so little water in District 12.

And then of course, Caesar has to ask about Katniss. "How are the two of you?"

"We're good" Peeta says with a happy nod of the head.

Caesar won't let it go. "Any progress in the relationship?"

I find myself biting my tongue and hanging on every word he says. And for a second, I tell myself I shouldn't hear this. It doesn't change anything, but still… It would be so much better if I didn't know.

So I break free of Cinna's arms around me and make my way up the hall and out of earshot of the screen. I don't turn around but make my way into a bathroom. Haymitch is already suspicious and I don't need anyone else thinking that way.

And once the door is closed and I'm safe inside, it escapes me. My breath comes in short bursts and I clutch at my chest where it hurts so much. I'm sobbing and I'm not breathing. I'm scared and I can see myself shake in the mirror. The lack of oxygen starts to get to my head and I collapse onto the tiled floor.

Cinna finds me minutes later curled up and sobbing into my dress.


	6. The Arena

For a girl who scored an 11, I am a wreck. The morning of the Games, I can feel my hands shaking. I don't see Peeta at all because I'm whisked away by a group of Officials wearing masks. They say nothing and only shove me harder when I try and push against their arms.

I'm lead somewhere underground. Under the arena. It's dark until I'm pushed into a little room that has just two lights. I'm so disoriented that I stumble a little until I fall into someone's arms. "Cinna" I gasp as he wraps his arms tighter around me. I hardly know him, but this is the comfort I need. I imagine he's my father. His arms are around me and he still smells like coal from having the night shift. His curly hair is thick and tickles my neck as he holds me.

I open my eyes and step back. Cinna suddenly means a whole lot more to me. I smile and he places his hands on my shoulders. "You can do this, Ara."

I nod. "Thirty seconds." I jump and look around the room. We truly are never alone.

Cinna pulls my chin in his direction and takes back my attention. "Stay close to him" he whispers in my ear.

My eyes widen. He knows. "Cinna" I breathe.

"Twenty seconds."

I'm frantic now and grab his biceps. He smiles at me but I shake my head. He doesn't understand. "You have to get out of here" I beg him in a hushed voice. "Hell's going to be unleashed and you can't be around." I can't lose my father twice.

He nods but his eyes are distant. "I'll be here waiting."

His hands give me a sharp push into the clear tube waiting in the corner of the room. I lock eyes with Cinna and he mouths something to me as the door is sliding shut: listen. I stare at him quizzically but he only glances up. I look as well and my feet start rising.

My heart is hammering in my chest. It hurts and I fear for a moment that I'll be the first tribute to have a heart attack and die before the Games even begin. I'm turned around backwards when the platform drops into place. I spin on my heels and it takes everything in me to stay composed.

This arena isn't what I trained for. I trained for tall trees, rocks and dense forests. That's all there was in training. They were preparing us to climb. Preparing us to run through rocky terrain. Hell, I would have been somewhat ready for a desert. Not this.

It's all rolling green hills. No cover. No shelter. The only trees are far in the distance. Too far away because I doubt I'll be able to run there without getting speared or sliced in the open field. The hills are grassy and it would barely reach my thighs, not high enough to run through. And crawling isn't a good idea.

I glance at Peeta, but his eyes are locked on something off to the left. And as I scan the half circle of tributes, all their eyes are either on the cornucopia or this thing to the left.

It doesn't take long to figure out why.

The clock flashes 20 and my heartbeat picks up again. I should be making a plan. Not worrying about scenery. But I have to know. If the Victors are staring, then it's a huge twist the Gamemakers have thrown our way.

It's a castle. A huge, stone, medieval castle. And it's the only thing in this arena besides grass that I can see. Only one thought is going through my head: what the hell is that for? If I've learned one thing from watching the Games all these years, it's that the Gamemakers don't just throw things into the arena for no reason. There's always a reason. Be it a trap or a resource.

The only question is, which is this?

I can see clearly in my head Gale calculating the use of a castle. He's telling me to stay away and I agree with him. It's too much attention. Whether it be a trap or not, it will harbor the proud who want to be _kings_ of the castle. I'm not proud. I'm avoiding it.

I sneak a glance at Peeta.

The clock flashes 10.

He too has decided to avoid the castle. I can see that in the way his eyes roam over all the things scattered about the cornucopia. Last year he had darted for the trees without a look back. But this year, there is no shelter and no promise of resources in the trees in the distance. We need _something_.

I spot a green backpack near Visen. It blends in nicely with the grass. It's almost invisible if you're not looking for it. I decide in a split second to go for it.

The clock flashes 2.

I breathe in deeply and ignore the ringing as the clock finishes its countdown. The silence is deafening, but only for half a second. Then it starts.

And it starts with a bang.

Nearly all of us are thrown off course when an enormous eruption echoes from the left. I panic for a second, thinking that somehow they hadn't turned off all of the bombs and Peeta has just been blown to pieces. But it's not him that's smoldering, it's the castle. One of the towers is smoking and rumble lies around it. A canon fires for a tribute that has been unlucky enough to have been struck by a falling stone.

And then cannons start firing like a steady heartbeat. In the confusion of the explosion, a few of the Victors managed to pry their eyes from the sight and begin the slaughter. I tear my gaze away and launch myself at the backpack. When my fingers lock around the strap, I hear the zing of something and duck down. I turn and see a knife puncture a tribute's heart. She hadn't even seen it coming. She thought it was going to kill me. And so did the girl who threw it.

I only see a wave of blonde hair as she reaches for another knife and I start running. I was wrong about her. And the next knife she throws slashes the back of my shoulder. I yelp and pull it out of back, never breaking pace. Now my eyes search even more desperately for Peeta. I only have a matter of seconds before a knife rams into my head.

I catch a shock of sandy hair bolting towards me. I'm dazed for a second and I wonder if I'm bleeding to death. The knife is sticky with my blood up to the handle. In my confusion, I don't see Peeta dodge the next knife. But I _feel_ him grab my injured arm and drag me forward.

"Move Ara!" he barks. And it's as if his voice is a spark because my feet start moving again and pretty soon I'm running ahead of him. I have to slow my pace even though I want desperately to give it my all and get the hell out of the bloodbath because Peeta can't keep up.

We don't get too far before we're met with another tribute. I recognize him. Gloss. He's got blood on his hands and a decent sized spear in one fist. He smirks and pulls the arm back.

I don't hesitate. When his arm moves back, my foot collides with his nose. He's stunned and stops for a second. I reach up and grab the spear and twist it around to the front of his body. My fist collides with his gut and when he hunches over, I jump over his back, never letting go of the spear. Gloss kicks back and lands one kick to my thigh. It slips off and isn't as powerful as he had hoped. I reach my other hand around and pull the spear up against his throat as hard as I can. He gasps and reaches behind to punch me. I dodge the first fist but the second catches my wounded shoulder and I cry out. Never do I let go of the spear or lessen the pressure.

"Go!" I scream to Peeta who's just standing there like a target. He's a Victor so someone's going to take aim at him soon. He stares at me and Gloss drops suddenly. I hope it's from passing out because we need to go, now!

I jump over Gloss and this time I grab Peeta and pull him along. I can hear screaming and crying behind us. I try and ignore it and focus on running. We are half way to the trees. _Almost there_, I tell myself and push harder. My legs are burning and I'm gasping for breath. Peeta isn't much better behind me.

I hear thumping behind us and I push Peeta ahead. "Keep going!" I shout. I mean to tell him I'll catch up, but I'm knocked to the ground before I have the chance. I recognize the bare skull when she steps on my arms. She holds a bow in her hands and notches an arrow.

I want that. I know it and I need it. I push off the ground and swing my legs up. They collide with her back and she tumbles forward. But when she falls, she crushes my head. I'm suffocating under her and she's not trying to get up. I jab her in the ribs and hold my hand there until she rolls off. But she takes my head with her. Her fingers latched onto my hair and when she rolled, I rolled with her.

She hits me in the jaw and my teeth hit my cheek. My mouth tastes metallic and I spit a mouthful of blood at her. She screams and I take the chance to grab her head on each side. I lift sharply and slam her head on the ground. Her eyes roll back but she knees me in the stomach causing me to gasp wildly. I can't stop though. So as I'm gasping for breath like a fish, I lift her head again and bash it into the ground. This time she doesn't struggle or even move.

Peeta is by my side in a second. I want to yell at him, but I can barely breathe, let alone talk. He unlocks Joanna's death grip on my hair and then on the bow. I grab the arrows and together we escape to the trees.

And we don't stop running. The forest goes on for more than I had thought. My eyes scan the area for water but there is none yet so I push us farther. Peeta follows and we keep running. My breathing is ragged and I must sound awful. I try and keep my face composed and confident because if anything, I know my family is watching. And if I'm going to go down, I'm not going down like this.

"Stop!" I gasp out and clutch my chest. Peeta hesitates but stops. I see the same glimmering in the distance that I saw in the training center. I can't reach the square from here, and I'm not sure I want to take down the shield yet, but I toss a small rock ahead.

Peeta jumps when the rock explodes in sparks and falls back to the ground. "What…?"

"Shield" I gasp. "Electrically charged."

So that's it. The forest only goes about half a mile deep. We don't wait long because a bird suddenly takes flight near us. Someone else is close. We silently decide to go right and sprint that way. We run for much longer than I thought we would have needed to. But I'm nervous about that other person and so we keep going. My shirt is wet from sweat and both of us are gasping. I lost feeling in my legs long ago and not I'm just hoping I don't fall because I don't know if I'll be able to get up again.

When the sky starts to turn pink, we stop. It's not a graceful stop because the two of us fall to the ground and lay there sucking in as much air as possible. My lungs burn like they are on fire. I can't get enough oxygen, but every breath is killing me.

Peeta is the first to recover, surprisingly. He helps me up and we crawl pathetically over to a clump of trees hidden in shadow. I lay my back against a trunk and prod my ribs looking for injury. It shouldn't take this long for me to recover. Peeta picks up some sticks and leans them against the trunks. He reaches up to snap a branch off a tree and I jump up.

"Don't" I say. "It'll make too much noise."

He nods and settles for a much shorter one lying on the ground. I look up at the trees, looking for one with bigger leaves. The biggest is about the size of my head. Not ideal, but better than nothing. I place one foot on the bark and a hand around the trunk. It takes more effort than normal because of whatever injury to pull myself up the tree. But when I get to a thicker branch, I straddle it and start to pluck leaves. Peeta waits below and I let them fall down to him. Once I've plucked a whole branch clean, I climb down.

Now to stick them together. I roll one of the leaves between my fingers and study it. It looks kind of familiar.

"We could put down more sticks and just rest them along it" Peeta says but then shakes his head. "No. If there's any wind we'll be uncovered."

I let go of the leaf and frown at my hands. They're covered in some kind of sap. I pick up the leaf and look at it more closely. My eyes widen and I pull Peeta over. "These are pallma trees, Peeta. See, look at the leaves. Moisture releases sap from the leaves." I placed one in my mouth and chewed it. Peeta looked at me strange but then did the same with another leaf. After a second, I pulled mine out and he did the same. I grabbed his and mashed ours together. Holding just mine, I shook the mass and the other leaf clung to the first. "See, we'll stick them like this."

He nodded and we each took a handful of leaves.

It was dark by the time we created a net large enough to cover the little shelter we had created. My mouth was extremely dry but I couldn't stop yet, the shelter was a little too obvious with the green mass. The ground here is damp and so I rub some of the dirt along the leaves randomly. When I'm satisfied, I crawl into the shelter with Peeta.

It's tight under the shelter. I can't stretch out. We can barely sit next to each other without knocking it over. Our elbows and knees are touching and I can't help the heat burning in my cheeks. I hope he can't see in the dark.

"Ara…" I turn and meet his blue eyes in the darkness.

The anthem interrupts whatever he was going to say. I'm on the side of the shelter that faces out so I move over a little until I have a clear view of the seal. And there they are: the fallen. I didn't count cannons before because I was too worried about getting away. But now I realize that there were fewer than I had thought.

I was wrong. Not all of the nonVictors were killed. A couple of them survived somehow.

And I was wrong about Visen. She survived. Something isn't right there. She was so weak before and nearly all of the Victors had pegged her as an easy target. Something is strange about her survival. Maybe she's not as weak as she made out to be. It wouldn't be a new trick to pretend to be a weakling and then slaughter all in the arena.

I'll have to keep an eye out for her. She may be more dangerous now because I have no idea what her talents are.

Ten are dead all together. Only two Victors: Joanna and Gloss. Both of which I was attacked by. Both of which I knocked unconscious. Both of which _I_ didn't kill.

I shuffle back into the shelter where Peeta is waiting. "We're being followed" I say calmly.

His eyes widen a little. "How do you know?"

I look forward through the little cracks between a few of the leaves. "I didn't kill Gloss or Joanna but both of them are dead. Someone followed us and killed them after I knocked them unconscious."

Peeta nods. Then he pulls out my backpack. "Let's see what we've got."

I think it's a little funny how neither of us even questioned that we would be allies. I'm obviously going to stick by Peeta because I need him alive, but I never thought of what I would do if he wanted to kill me. In fact, I can't really see any reason for him to _want _to be in an alliance with me. Other than maybe my basic survival skills, I'm useless.

What's really useless is the backpack. It contains objects that won't do us much good: some kind of medicine, a roll of string, an empty metal bottle, and a blanket. I was hoping for at least water or some kind of food until I could hunt, but I'm not that lucky. The only thing we can actually use now is the blanket, and of course the knife I pulled out of my shoulder.

Peeta takes the blanket and wraps it around the two of us. It reflects our body heat back and just in time because as night settles in, the air becomes icy cold. "Are you hurt?" I ask once we are settled.

He shakes his head. "No. Are you?"

As much as I'd like to say that I'm fine as well, I know I'm not. My shoulder aches terribly and is sticky with blood. I'm not sure if it's stopped bleeding yet, and I really should have been putting pressure on it, but I was too consumed with making shelter before darkness settled in. And my ribs are still sore from Joanna's kick.

Peeta reaches up and pokes a hole in one of the leaves, letting in a sliver of moonlight. I unzip my jacket and pull down my sleeve just enough to uncover the wound. Peeta turns me around and gets a good look at the knife wound. "How bad is it?" I hiss when he prods the skin a little too close.

He hesitates and I read right through his answer. It's not too good.

"Is it still bleeding?"

"No" he says and I believe him. At least that's good. I'll just have to wait for it to heal. "Anything else?"

I pull my sleeve back up carefully and then roll my shirt up to my navel. Sure enough, in the moonlight I can see a nice purple bruise forming by my ribs. It hurts to move or touch it so I put my shirt back in place and zip up my jacket. Peeta makes sure to wrap my half of the blanket back around me.

"I'll take first watch" I say and inch my way over to the opening of the shelter. I figure I'd be more alerting if I sat in the open than if I just watched from the entrance. Besides, if someone were to approach from anywhere else, I would hear.

And I have a bow.

I smile and run my fingers along a slim arrow. I feel much more confident now.

Peeta protests because I'm injured, but I don't budge and there's not enough room under our shelter to move around so he gives in. We are silent for a while and I notch an arrow and lay the bow on my lap just in case. I'm sure Peeta has fallen asleep, but then he speaks. "Thank you."

I don't turn to look at him. "You don't have to thank me."

"Yes I do" he argues. "I know Joanna's attack wasn't meant for you. She was after me the whole time. I should have helped you more. I was just… frozen."

He is silent for a moment and I have to turn around. His gaze is distant. I turn back.

"I never froze like that before. Last time, I was so sure of myself. I knew what I had to do and I did it. I didn't question myself. But this time… It was like I was fighting with myself. Everything in me was screaming to run or fight. But my body just stood there and watched. I watched her hit you and I did nothing. I could have helped. Two on one would have been much better."

"You're probably in shock" I answer. "You didn't believe all this time that you were actually going back and once you got into the arena, you kind of shut down."

"And that's why I have to thank you. Because she probably would have killed me in my haze."

I wait a moment or two. This would be the perfect time. I could tell him why I was doing what I am. Not exactly as I would have to leave out everything with the rebellion, but I could tell him all the other reasons. My wanting to bring him back for Katniss and my own selfish desires.

"You're welcome."


	7. Gareth

My eyes flicker open just as the sun is beginning to rise. I jump to my feet and swear when I smack my head on the shelter. Peeta's somehow sitting on the other end of the shelter. How did he get there? Wasn't I sitting there? When did I fall asleep? Peeta bolts awake when I hit my head and blinks a few times before he smiles at me. "Morning."

I yawn. "Morning. We should get going."

He nods. We pack up the backpack and crawl out of the shelter. I feel stiff from sleeping in such a cramped space, but at least I'm rested. Peeta takes the heel of his boot and crushes our makeshift shelter.

I'm very cautious now that I know we are being followed. I notch an arrow on the bow and glance frequently behind us. Peeta hasn't forgotten either. He stops and stares at any movement and won't move forward until he's sure it's not another tribute.

Today I only have one goal for us besides survive: find water.

We're not going to last much longer if we don't find some type of water source soon. My mouth is already extremely dry and every time I swallow my throat burns. We both move at a slower pace today and I hope that thirst hasn't dulled any of my senses. Now is not the time to be blind to signs of an approaching tribute.

A chilly breeze blows today and I wonder if this is the type of weather we will have to endure throughout the Games. The ground is covered in thick fog and I can't see my feet. It's not very high but it still makes me uneasy. Nearly anything can be lurking in this fog and I can't see it. The only way I'll know is when my foot bumps into it.

My feet trudge now and I can't keep from stepping on twigs. I scream inwardly and I groan. At this rate whoever is following us may as well confront us because it's just too easy to follow us when we are dehydrated. I feel so weak for barely lasting a day before succumbing to the agony the Gamemakers throw at us.

Peeta glances over at me once and the look on his face scares me more than the thought of dying so soon. "You alright?" he asks. His words are careful, chosen so that I can still answer and seem strong by denying the trouble I know we're both in, but showing so real concern.

I pretend to brush his question aside. "I'm fine." But I'm truly worried. We're running out of time to find water and if I already look weak enough to make Peeta worry, then I've made us easy targets.

I do my best to stand up a little straighter and walk a little more cautiously, as if I'm hunting and not dying. I can't remember the last time I drank anything, but I don't try to because it only makes me more thirsty.

Peeta is lagging as well. He stoops a little and struggles to pull himself over a fallen tree that's in our path. We'd go around, but by its base I see that flickering square. We can't go that way unless we want to be blown up.

I jump and throw an arm out to stop Peeta when I hear the gentle snap. His eyes find mine and he watches my every move carefully. I tilt my head in the direction and keep listening. My eyes scan up and down, looking for any sign of another tribute. There's been no sign of them or anything for that matter until now. A half a day is much too long to leave us alone.

I see him before he sees us. He's that same boy from District 9.

Haymitch said to trust this boy. I watch him carefully for a second, judging everything. He doesn't appear to see us yet. I act as if I see nothing. I don't want to alarm Peeta. I doubt Haymitch told him who to trust, and I don't want him attacking our ally if he is one. So I keep moving my head, but make sure that the boy is always in my line of sight.

Then I see the glint of light. It comes from a spear.

"Run" I whisper to Peeta. I won't take any chances. That boy has a weapon and he's getting much too close. And once the spear is thrown, there's little I can do to stop it.

I notch an arrow just in case, but don't fire yet. I'm waiting to see if he'll take the offensive. It's difficult to run and constantly look behind me. More than once I'm slapped by a branch or scratches by something. But Peeta and I run at the same pace. He leads because I'm watching the boy. He's close behind but hasn't thrown the spear yet. Surely he can see us? We aren't doing such a wonderful job of concealing our heavy steps. We're too dehydrated to be that careful.

We can't run forever. I know that because my legs start to burn much sooner than normal. And if we keep running, we're going to sweat out what little water we still have in our systems.

I grab Peeta's arm and tug him to the side. Then I stop running all together and wait. He stands beside me, hidden by a clump of thick trees, with the knife raised. I hold my bow up so only the tip of the arrow reaches out of the cover of the trees.

The boy comes bounding down the hill and stops. He knew we stopped. He turns to the trees we are hiding behind. I hold my breath. I feel dizzy from running, but I keep my aim locked on his heart. "Ara?" he calls.

Peeta grabs my shoulder as if I would step out and greet the boy.

"I'm Gareth" he says because he knows I'm there. He doesn't step forward, but he doesn't drop the weapon either. The name is familiar though. Haymitch said to trust him. Can I? Can I trust a boy that's hardly eleven but holding a deadly spear.

It's as if he reads my mind. "I guess a spear wouldn't do me any good against one of your arrows" he laughs and drops it to the ground. Peeta and I share a look, asking each other the same question.

There's movement on the hill in front of us. It's slight, only the shake of a few leaves, but I still catch it. I catch sight of a head of black hair and readjust my aim. Gareth jumps when he sees the arrow fly and he turns to see where it has struck, because it was in no way aimed at him.

I run out of our cover and Peeta follows close behind. Four feet away, I see that I've struck the girl in the head. A pool of blood has formed around her. The poison dart is still in her hand and ready to be thrown.

Gareth runs up beside us. Peeta and I are both leery of him but we don't move to attack. And neither does Gareth. He looks at me with wide eyes. "Thank you" he says. It occurs to him that I've saved his life sooner than it has occurred to me.

And I wonder how dumb of a decision that was. Sure he's an ally, but what good is an eleven year old? And now there is one more person that I'm going to have to kill all the while knowing that he has been fighting for us. But there can only be one winner, and that's Peeta. I'll make sure of that.

The cannon booms and startles the three of us. "We should get moving" I say when it has stopped. "The other tributes will know we are around now."

Just like that, Gareth has been accepted into our alliance. He retrieves his spear and shows us the other treasures he's grabbed off of the dead. One of which is a canteen full of water. Peeta and I reach for it with greedy hands. There is no _ladies first_ or _after you_. We pry it from each other's hands like animals, desperate for some of the warm water inside. Gareth watches us and smiles. "Good thing I was following you. I don't know why you didn't stop and pick some of this stuff up."

I nod. "So it was you following us."

Gareth smiles like a child and I can almost forget for a minute where we are. "You sure made it easy for me. You left a trail of unconscious tributes. I killed them for you, don't worry." And just like that, all the child in him disappears. This is what these Games do: turn children into murders.

Peeta smiles at me. "Good instinct" he compliments me. I feel dizzy again but not from the lack of fluids this time.

I turn to Gareth because I don't think I can speak to Peeta right now without saying something that will cost both of us our lives. "Where did you get the water?"

He shrugs and I feel my heart drop. "I don't know. It was already in the canteen."

I'm angry, but I can't be angry at him. He didn't know. It's not his fault. And at least he shared what he had with us. We'd be dead if he didn't.

We keep following the edge of the arena. I push the boys aside when they get too close to the force field. There's a few questions burning my tongue, but I can't ask them when we are here and being watched. But I'm dying to know how someone as young as Gareth got involved with the rebellion. I only knew because I was in the Hob so often.

I wonder what they think of me. I wonder if they are cheering for me to win and conquer. Or are they angry with me because something isn't right about the relationship between Peeta and I?

"What happened to your back?" Gareth asks when I bend out of the way of a low hanging branch.

"That blonde girl, Visen, threw a knife" I say with a shrug. He also shrugs it away. It hasn't hurt me too bad. It's more of a hindrance than something to worry about right now. What we do need to worry about is finding water. What little we drank only seemed to increase my thirst. I can still feel the coolness in my mouth but my tongue is dry. I'm getting desperate because we'll either die of dehydration or be picked off when we are weak like this.

I eye Gareth out of the corner of my eye as we keep walking. Haymitch said to trust him, but what if we are attacked? What if he's being attacked? Is he really going to risk his life to save ours? I can't say I would if he was being attacked. Peeta is another story. I'm more than ready and less forlorn than I should be about laying down my life for him. But I owe Gareth nothing more than a sip of water. I'm not going to die for him.

It's been a while since I've heard a cannon. Actually, it's been a while since I've heard anything. The silence is comforting but also frightening. There's no one around, but yet there are no animals or rivers or creeks. Something's wrong.

A bird takes flight to my left. It lets out a caw and then breaks through the cover of the trees. The boys keep moving but I stop. I trace it's flight and peer behind the tree it flew from.

And then I'm running.

I catch Peeta's arm and pull him with me. I don't shout and I don't give any warning. Peeta doesn't fight me; he understands. Gareth struggles to catch up. We race away and I'm getting dizzy checking for our pursuer and the force field. We need to get away from the edge so I don't have to worry about that as well. I make a distinct right and keep running.

The leaves covering the ground are greener here and the ground isn't as rough. But I only notice this when I slip and start to tumble. I slip under a bush and then the ground becomes a slide. It's slick and nearly vertical. The boys are right behind me. "Hold on!" Peeta shouts and grabs my shoulders.

I forget about the pursuer for the second and let out a shriek.


End file.
